COTTON= 
PICKER 

AND 

OTHER POEAS 



CAEX 
HOLL.IDAY 



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Copyright N". 



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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



THE COTTON-PICKER 
AND OTHER POEMS 









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The Cotton- Picker 

and 

Other Poems 

BY 

CARL HOLLIDAY 

AUTHOR OF "a HISTORY OF SOUTHERN LITERATURE" 



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NEW YORK AND WASHINGTON 

THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY 

1907 



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I UonAHY of CONGRESS j 
two Oooles Recelvecf ( 

OCT 2 i90r 

Ccpyrifht Entry 

GLASS A KXc, No. 
COPY B. 






Copyright, 1907, by 
The Neale Publishing Company 



CONTENTS 



Dedication 

The Cotton Dicker 

Morning Song 

Evening Song 

To THE South 

When Music Sounds 

Ambition 

A Lyric of Youth 

A Southern Summer 

A Southern Night 

At Eventide . 

Westminster Abbey 

Music .... 

Of Truest Love 

Old Age 

Sweet Evening Bell 

The Contrast 

A Toast to Spring . 

My Faith 

At Appomattox 

A Peace-Prayer 

To the Tw^entieth Century Woman 

For Every Tear 

Dedication for an Album 

The Stars 

The Young Man to His Soul 

An Old Man's Song 

5 



page 

7 
II 

12 
13 
14 
15 
i6 

17 
i8 

19 

20 
21 
22 

23 
24 

25 
26 
27 
28 
29 

30 
31 

32 

33 
34 
35 
36 



CONTENTS 



To Omar Khayyam 

The Cup of Life . 

The Prairie-schooner 

The Nation Builders 

They that Suffer 

Wondrous Love 

A Rrayer 

Memory's Jar 

My Ship 

The Answer . 

A Night Thought 

Life 

The Calmer Life 

Eternal Song 

Just for To-day 

The Light 

Some Day Beyond 

A Spring-time Hint 

November 

The Wise Prayer 

Love Liveth On 

The Culmination 

On Christmas Morn 

Heart-Songs 

Twilight 

Finis Vit^ 



PAGE 
37 
38 
39 
40 

41 
42 

43 
44 
45 
46 

47 
48 

49 
50 
51 
52 
53 
55 
56 
57 
59 
60 
61 
62 
63 
64 



DEDICATION 

To youj my comrades, who have walked 

The path of shadows and of light; 
Who've heard my thoughts and to me talked 

In tones now silent as the night; 
Who've watched with me the morn of life. 

And gloried in its flush and glow; 
Who went with me into the strife 

And fell ere yet the sun was low — 
To you I dedicate each word. 
These short, faint notes of passage-bird. 

For we are as the birds that pass: 

We hover o'er the earth a space; 
A song or two amid the grass; 

And then a flight past time and place. 
We know not why nor when the hour; 

We only know that in the race 
Some pass more quickly to yon bower. 

But yet, we trust to see each face 
And know the voices we have heard. 
To you I dedicate each word. 



Thanks are due the Taylor-Trot wood Publishing Com- 
pany for permission to use poems which have appeared in 
Bob Taylor's Magazine and Taylor-Trotivood Magazine. 



THE COTTON-PICKER 
AND OTHER POEMS 



THE COTTON-PICKER 

Behold, amid the rows of gleaming white, 

The heedless negro sings, and stoops to pluck 
The fleecy boll. Beneath the glaring light 

Of Southern skies, all thoughtless of the luck 
That lifts or fells earth's kingdoms and her men, 

He onward goes across the far-stretched fields, 
And sings and bends and sings and bends again, 

Heaping the fluffy load. Oh, power that wields! 
What might this common worker of the soil 

Who grapples with th-e silent dust for bread 
Doth hold within those fingers! Stooped with toil, 

With every bend he spins a mighty thread 
That, reaching forth, doth hold the waiting earth 
In bonds as strong as is her common dearth! 



II 



MORNING SONG 

Sing, Spirit of Morning, sing! 
Spring forth from thy slumbers, spring! 
See the gold 
Now unfold ; 
Day doth begin. 

Shout, Spirit of Morning, shout! 
Earth's splendors are spread about. 

Far and wide. 

On ev'ry side, 
God's day comes out! 

Go, Spirit of Morning, go! 
Swift, e'en as the sunbeams flow! 
On them that sleep, 
On them that weep, 
Joy now bestow. 



12 



EVENING SONG 

Twilight and solitude 

And death of day; 
Calmness; an interlude 

Of star and gray. 

Silence and shadow-land 
And time of thought; 

Reckoning the fruit of hand 
The day has brought. 

Peace, yet regretfulness — 
The hand will stray — 

Father, in forgetfulness, 
Accept the day. 



13 



TO THE SOUTH 

So great a task, and yet so very few, 

Alas, to undertake the work anew! 

Too prone to be content with ancient ways; 

Too fond of thinking of the former days; 

While hill and mountain, mead and forest, all 

Cry, " Harvesters! " and wilderness doth call 

To wilderness. So little changed by thrift 

That Progress seems to ask, " Where is thy gift? " 

Too many words and not enough of deeds ; 

Long clinging to outworn social creeds. 

When shall we know our hidden power? Oh, 

when? 
The South hath need of men, of restless men. 
The heritage awaits! Where are the heirs? 
God grant we learn what unshamed Labor bears. 



14 



WHEN MUSIC SOUNDS 

When music sounds, soft grows the heart, 

And every weary soul apart 

From its thorn-strewn path doth steal, 
And, listening to the sweet appeal. 

Roams all enchanted by strange art. 

The deadly struggle of the mart, 
The shrieking engine, rumbling cart, 
No longer seem so madly real 
When music sounds. 

And o'er each stern, set face doth dart 
A kindlier glance, and tears oft start 
From hardened eyes that one would feel 
Would ne'er their soul's deep woe reveal. 
Ah, how the soul doth speak its part 
When music sounds! 



15 



AMBITION 

Hast thou ne'er thought of all the nameless dead 
Whom age on age hath laid in earth's dark bed ; 
The countless millions who did live and love 
And laugh and weep and worship One above; 
Who fought the fight and ran the self-same race 
Which led, as leads it now, to that vast space, 
Eternity? In blindness did they die 
And cease to be — as must both you and I. 
They felt the passions' impulse good and bad. 
And found life sweet and bitter, glad and sad; 
And yet each passing shower doth pelt their dust 
And mix it well to form a richer crust. 
My God ! I would not be as these. I crave 
A name remembered and a known grave! 



i6 



A LYRIC OF YOUTH 

Youth is fleeting; 

Hear her greeting; 
Stop not for old Wisdom's speech. 

Sing the song now; 

Little's wrong now; 
Snatch each joy within thy reach ! 

Hearts are dancing; 

Eyes are glancing; 
Learn the lore that's taught by love. 

Let us haste now 
, Life to taste now; 
Earth hath joys unknown above. 

In the gloaming, 

Worn with roaming, 
Seek thou then some calmer joy ; 

But in youth now 

Learn this truth now: 
Languor doth the soul destroy. 



17 



A SOUTHERN SUMMER 

The hot air quivers; 'mid the drooping green 
Yon bird in silence gasps and views the scene 
With staring eyes. Afar the groaning mill 
Sends forth its multitudinous sounds that fill 
The air with heaviness, and send o'er all 
A stupor, — soothing, vague. Upon the wall 
The drowsy cricket dreams of winter-day, 
And speaks his thoughts. The day droops slow 
away. 



i8 



A SOUTHERN NIGHT 

Afar the mountains loom through wreaths of smoke ; 

Beneath the moon the fields of cotton spread 
In ghostly gray: beyond, the marshes soak 

In darksome shadows, silent as the dead. 
And lose themselves amid the far-stretched haze. 

Near by, magnolias fill the languid air 
With rich and drowsy odor, while there strays, 

At times, far scent of burning pine. How fair 
And yet how full of awe the dim-spread scene! 

All Nature seems to wait some voice, some tone. 
And list! Behind yon heavy-woven screen 

The mocking-bird bursts forth as it alone 
Can sing, all wild, exultant, plaintive-sweet! 

The air is thrilled and seems alive with sound. 
Afar come answers soft, and echoes cheat 

The ear with lingering notes. Thus through the 
round 
Of hours the night glides on. Ah, rapturous night, 

Strained, listening, passion-laden night, why 
sleep ? 
Earth has no sweeter sounds, no stranger sight 

For him who doth thy balmy vigils keep. 



19 



AT EVENTIDE 

At eventide the shadows fall 
Athwart the field and cottage wall, 
And in the silence comes a call 

At eventide. 
And some one whispering by me bows 
With earnest kiss and earnest vows, 
A voice my soul with joy endows 

At eventide. 

Some eventide we'll roam away, 
And life shall seem one gladsome day; 
We'll live and love and cease to stray 

At eventide. 
Then, when the westward sun is low. 
When round us falls the winter snow, 
God grant that we together go 
At eventide. 



20 



IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY 

And now the groping evening shadows creep 

Along the deep, dark walls, and slowly veil 

The silent figures o'er the tombs. Afar 

The solemn organ rolls its mighty bass. 

And 'mid its pauses sound the dying tones 

Of vesper choirs. On every side the dead. 

What dead sleep here! Yet evenings come and go; 

And vesper choirs wail forth their prayer to God 

And go their way ; and men from strange far strands 

Gaze here in awe and pause to meditate; 

But these of other days sleep on in peace. 

'Neath storied stone and urn and sculptured bust, 

And while the universal organ peals 

Its huge, far chords, reck not of time or fame. 

O God ! There is a voice within this- pile, 
Thy voice, and dimly through my soul I hear 
Its deep, deep tone: These dead died not in vain! 
From out the tomb they call to living men 
To do and dare and reap God's harvest ere 
He calls them to their storied stone and urn. 
The voices of the dead have wondrous power; 
For God hath chosen them to speak His cause; 
And here they dumbly raise a mighty cry. 



21 



MUSIC 

God gave to men the crude, rough power of speech, 
That, earthy, they might speak of earthy things; 
Then, filled with pity for their starving souls. 
He taught them Music, Heaven's native tongue. 



22 



OF TRUEST LOVE 

I pity him who in his heart 
Hath never felt the thrill, the start 
That comes from wounds of Cupid's dart 
Of truest love. 

I pity him who ne'er doth bow 
To one who doth with joy endow, 
And ne'er doth give a whispered vow 
Of truest love. 

For love and life are one, the same; — 
Then let men seek or wealth or fame, 
But ril go seeking in the name 
Of truest love! 



23 



OLD AGE 

Fear not Old Age. His face is grand, 
And calm, and tranquil, like a land 
That in its Summer-day and Fall 
Hath giv'n its fruits, its strength, its all. 
And now lies resting, while the snow. 
With kindly touch, spreads o'er it low 
A mantle white, and bids it sleep 
In slumbers soft, in slumber deep. 



24 



SWEET EVENING BELL 

Sweet evening bell! far down the stream 
The tones come stealing with the beam 
From slow departing sun and float 
Across the waters, while my boat 
Glides, rippling softly as a dream. 

So may my life's dim journey seem; 
When darkness gathers may I deem 
The last low call as sweet a note, 
Sweet Evening Bell. 

When far across the waters gleam 
The lights, may joy within me teem, 
And may it be as poets wrote 
Of those who, gliding in their boat, 
Passed on and heard, as in a dream. 
Sweet Evening Bell. 



25 



THE CONTRAST 

The tale of some men's lives is bitter-sad. 

Their souls are torn, and, quivering in their pain, 

They long for misery's sting to drive them mad. 

Alas, 'tis not to be; but they must feign 

A smiling face while shrieking fiends do crush 

The bleeding heart and w^ith their stormings hush 

The plaintive cry of sorrowing soul. Such men 

Look out upon the happy world and then 

Back to the den of turmoil black within, 

And in their horror do some desperate sin 

In hope that they may live and happy be. 

Alone, unloved, in darkness out to sea 

Their bark goes forth, and while the surges boom 

They fade away in ominous, threatening gloom. 
The tale of some men's lives is joyous-glad. 
They smiling go among their countless friends 
And sing and laugh; their souls are never sad, 
While man on every hand with homage bends. 
Sweet fortune looks with pleasure on their path, 
And, roaming 'mid its shades in careless glee. 
Nor want nor woe doth bring a tear, nor wrath 
Of destiny destroy the harmony. 
Their faces glow with peace, with deep content. 
While age draws near, like pleasure-laden dreams, 
And silvery hair adorns the head, unbent. 
With reverent glory like to Heaven's beams. 
Their lightsome boat frees softly from its bond. 
And gazing friends speak low of peace beyond. 

26 



A TOAST TO SPRING 

A mist is on the hill, 

And a laugh is in the rill, 
And I hear a bird a-singing in the wood, ho! 

And across the changing sky 

Clouds forever, ever fly, 
And my heart would not be heavy if it could, ho! 

The green is on the tree^ — • 

Ah ! it fills my soul with glee ! 
And it's O I wish the Spring could be my bride, ho ! 

For the wintry, wintry day 

Brings old Sorrow and his gray, 
And the smile of Spring alone can him deride, ho! 

Yonder plodding farmer-lad 

Sings a song, ah me, so glad, 
That I know he must be wooing — not the Spring, ho! 

But a lass, alas, may be 

Like a storm upon the sea. 
While sweet Spring believeth every man her king, 
ho! 

Then, a health, my fairy Spring! 

May you make my soul to sing 
Till I hear no more the bird-note in the wood, ho! 

And when I have gone my way 

Let them love you then that may 
And shout their song of joy, as they should, ho ! 

27 



MY FAITH 

I cannot see that realm, mystic, far. 

Where souls and angels dwell, and naught doth mar 

The beauty of the harmony. Perhaps 

It thus may be, and far across the gaps 

Of Time and Death there stands this calmer land 

Where never sorrow's tears are seen, and grand 

The souls, rejoicing, sing a rapturous lay. 

Perhaps 'tis thus, but I, poor one of clay, 

Must place my hope in earthly things and look 

For my Creator's proof in that vast book 

Of Nature spread afar. I have no creed. 

But in the dirt, the stone, the clod, the weed. 

In every flower and tree that through the sod 

Climbs upward toward the sky, / see my God. 



28 



AT APPOMATTOX 

What shall we say? Was it at last defeat 

That leader of the weary army gained? 
When those two knights of North and South did 
meet 

Upon that final field with blood so stained, 
Was one the vanquished, one the victor there? 

O patriots, no; on that sad day of peace 
There was no sign of conquest anywhere, 

But only two great hearts content to cease 
The strife and live at peace, the battle done. 

And who was greater of the twain that day? 
Ah, ask not that. One lost, the other won ; 

Each followed his ideal all the way. 
It matters little if we win not goals. 
But much how goals are kept before our souls. 



29 



A PEACE-PRAYER 

God of the nations, Thou who hast 

In ages past Thy causes won 
Through War's all-desolating blast, 

Grant that henceforth Thy will be done 
Through Peace and all her gentle arts, 
Through mutual faith and kindly hearts. 

God of the nations, see afar 

Thine ancient world one bloody field! 
Behold, a myriad sleeping are, 

Where oft Thy cause to arms appealed! 
There is no spot of Earth where Cain 
Hath not bestowed his bloody stain. 

God of the nations, hear our prayer! 

Thy people for deliverance call. 
Unmask the glitter and the glare; 

Teach us the folly of it all. 
Then shall we live and know Thy law, 
Its meaning, and obey in awe. 



30 



TO THE TWENTIETH CENTURY 
WOMAN 

Just for a little while thou hast gone mad, 

Waiving the right of gentle motherhood, 
And flaunting at the love that made all glad 

The hearts of other days. In search of good 
Hast thou, O misled one, in howling streets 

And roaring marts and sharp-eyed gamesters, 
found 
The joys of liberty and freedom's sweets? 

Hast thou found peace in mannish honors 
gowned ? 
O gentle soul of woman, seeking far 

In troubled domains for thy heart's content, 
To thee, oppressed, full many an evil star 
Its toil and pain and tyranny hath sent. 
But, lo! when freedom comes wilt thou release 
Thine ancient realm of holy love and peace? 



31 



FOR EVERY TEAR 

Be calm, my heart, thou hast moaned enough! 

Though earth may vex thee with its guile ; 
Though 'neath thy cross the way be rough; 

For every tear there is a smile. 

Thou know'st not what the morrow brings; 

There is a peace between each trial; 
Perhaps my soul to-morrow sings! 

For every tear there is a smile. 



32 



DEDICATION FOR AN ALBUM 

Mute Mem'ry, softly pointing one, 

To thee we dedicate our book, 
In hopes when strenuous days are done 

Thou'lt linger by us while we look 
Into these pages of the past, 

And dream of that long-vanish'd day 
When gnawing sorrows could not last. 

And unawares the hours slipped 'way. 

Be with us then, and as we go 

Aback the long road, mile by mile. 
Help meet the faces we did know ; 

Change every tear to sweetest smile. 
We'll hear the murmuring voices dim; 

The tones that long ago forsook 
Will come like some inspired hymn: — 

To thee we dedicate our book. 



33 



THE STARS 

Is the night not a looking-glass 

For earth below: 
The stars the souls that pass 

Forever to and fro? 

Some souls with passion burn — 
Each a glittering star; 

Some, calm in virtue stern, 
Gleam cold afar. 

The few in splendor glow — 

Some, soft as love; 
But each is a heart below 

Reflected above. 



34 



THE YOUNG MAN TO HIS SOUL 

''Life's a joke." 

"Life is real! Life is earnest!" 

Oh, the voices of the ages! 

They that speak from out the pages 

Of the Books of Time, the sages. 

Oh, the voices! Oh, the voices! 
From all times and ancient places. 
From immortals of all races. 
All whom Genius with her graces 
E'er hath blessed with her embraces. 

Some cry to me: " Rest you! Rest you! " 
Some speak: " Adam's curse has blest you; 
By your works your God shall test you." 

Oh, the voices! Oh, the voices! 
This one warns me: *' Life is fleeting; 
Sip joy's cup, all pleasures greeting." 
Comes an earnest voice entreating: 
" Work while youth's strong blood is beating ! 

my soul! what voice shall guide me? 

1 know not; thou must decide me. 
See, the Babel doth deride me! 

Oh, the voices! Oh, the voices! 
They have lived, and they have known; 
Thy have reaped what they have sown. 
Can I else but, as God leads it, 
Live each hour as that hour needs it? 

35 



AN OLD MAN'S SONG 

O shattered dreams that once did live and glow, 
And now lie 'mid the woe and gloom of years, 

What raptures did ye in those days bestow 
Whilst yet we built our castles tiers on tiers, 
Ere ye did diel 

O shattered dreams that perished one by one, 
And left but bitter memories in your stead, 

How dark hath grown that once so valiant sun 
Which then we followed, fearless, where it led, 
Without a sigh! 

O shattered dreams, ye know there is no hope 
Where visions cease to warm the fainting heart; 

When 'mid the sickening din of mortal strife 
No far, sweet, whispering voices joy impart, 
'Tis best to die. 



36 



TO OMAR KHAYYAM 



Omar, if I might live and sing like Thee 
A Song that to the Centuries would be 

The Spring of Tears and Smiles and deep, deep 

Thought, 
Then gladly would I drink Death's Cup — with 

Thee. 

Oh, Brother, surely Thou hast sung aright! 

The Potter shaped us with His Love's own Light; 

He will forgive the Weakness of the Clay: 
Else let me sleep — with Thee — th' Eternal Night! 



37 



THE CUP OF LIFE 

The cup that to my lips is prest 

Is often bitter to my soul; 
But, ah, I sip it, smiling, lest 

I taste no sweetness in the bowl. 

Each day the sweetness seems to grow; 

Some taste of bitterness is gone; 
I find more peace within the flow 

Of this strange bowl, as time goes on. 

Some day beyond — I know not when — ■ 
I hope to drink with naught of strife ; — 

The last deep draught all sweetness then — 
And then — farewell, strange cup of life ! 



38 



THE PRAIRIE-SCHOONER 

All day the creeping caravan 

Wound on its serpent-trailing way; 

A thousand miles of wind-swept tan, 
A thousand miles of cloudless gray. 

Beneath the quivering summer-heat 
The prairie-schooner creaked afar; 

Some day, some time, the trail would meet 
The Setting Sun, the Golden Bar. 

The course is done; the servant old 
Long stood in shivering rags, and gazed 

Upon the mansions built of gold; 

All wondering, by their splendor dazed. 

The course is done; yet on and on 
Beyond Time's wavering shadow-line 

The prairie-schooner long has gone, 
Forsaken, lost, with ne'er a shrine. 



39 



THE NATION-BUILDERS 

(On seeing Remington's "Snow-Bound Christmas 
on the Overland Coach.") 

See! far, unending, stares the desolate waste, 
In silence fearful. Calmly, without haste. 
The darkness of the winter-day creeps on, 
Nor smiles nor boasts the ghastly victory won, 
But, all unheeding, steals across the deeps 
Of snow. With bowed head the driver sleeps 
And shall not wake. His patient steeds heed not 
The wind's far moan and drift; but, all forgot. 
With him they sleep the long, long sleep of death. 
No movement anywhere — O God! no breath. 
No breath of life! No path, no friend, no foe; 
Dark day and night alone the secret know. 
So sleep these heroes of unheralded strife. 
Fameless, they died to give a nation life. 



40 



THEY THAT SUFFER 

I saw an ancient singer once; his beard 

Swept waving o'er his shrunken breast; his eye 

In blindness smiled as though he never feared 
The darkness blank. He sang right merrily. 

Hast thou ne'er seen a singer blind? The earth 

Is filled with them ; they roam abroad with brow 
All calm, and smile, though suffering from their 
birth 
Till death. Thou hast not seen? They pass 
thee now! 



41 



WONDROUS LOVE 

The eyes and ears of Love are wondrous sharp 
They see the hidden secrets of the soul ; 

They hear the soundless music of its harp ; 
And, seeming here, in Paradise they stroll. 
Enraptured there! 



42 



A PRAYER 

Let me but live. The earth, the sea, the sky, 
The far-spread scene, the teeming, roaring street, 

Just these are Heaven enough for me! Ah, why 
Should man the Earthly spurn with scornful feet 

And sing of joys beyond? Each morning brings 
A wondrous beauty, past the ken of soul ; 

Each noon with life doth throb, loud Labor sings ; 

The night descending calmly crowns the whole 
And whispers low — ah me, too low, alas! — 

That Earth is Heaven, if we but wish it so. 
With eyes all blinded, on and on we pass. 

E'en mourning that we linger here below! 
A thousand years would God to me might give; 

For Earth is Heaven, if we but truly live. 



43 



MEMORY'S JAR 

Ah me, my Soul, the years have fled 

Away as flee the clouds afar, 
And with them, too, for aye hath sped 

Full many a joy that, like the dead, 
Lives only where sweet memories are. 

And yet, when evening shadows tread 

Along yon sunset's shining bar, 
Oft are my thoughts with memories fed. 
As one who opens, fortune-led, 

Some olden, long-closed, perfumed jar. 

Then come the fragrant days long dead. 

That, like the crushed leaves in the jar. 
Call back those forms that, though long fled, 
Methinks yet in their musings tread 
Beyond this bar and evening star. 



44 



MY SHIP 

There's a wondrous ship on a distant sea, 

On the sea of the far Some Day; 
It has wandered long; — oh, what joy there shall be 

When my ship comes home to stay! 

There are crowns and gems in this ship of mine, 

And treasures in vast array: 
Oh, my soul shall rejoice as with royal wine, 

When my ship comes home to stay. 

Long lost on the waste of the ocean far. 

Oh, many the weary day! 
God grant that I be at the harbor bar 

When my ship comes home to stay. 



45 



THE ANSWER 

You ask me why I've grown cold 

And do not beam, 
As in the rapturous days of old, 

With love's first gleam. 
You speak of love now faithless, dead; 
Of how I uttered, passion-fed, 
Sweet words that falser were, instead. 

Than you could dream. 

I answer only this: that when 

I long had sought, 
I found in you my idol then 

(Or so I thought), 
But when I learned that by false art 
Your noble features did impart 
A beauty found not in your heart, 

Ah, havoc wrought! 



46 



A NIGHT-THOUGHT 

Just now my child, awaking from its sleep, 
Tossed restless, longing for the dark to cease, 

Then, groping, grasped my hand and, sighing deep, 
Slept soon in peace. 

Just so, O God, while runs day's golden sand 
I from Thy presence boldly seek release; 

But, ah, in night's black gloom I grasp Thy hand, 
And rest in peace. 



47 



LIFE 

A few dreams, and the day is o'er; 
A little yearning at the shore, 
A deep, deep hope that our souls may soar 

Ere day is done. 
A few greetings on the way, 
A little wonder that so few may 
Along the journey with us stay 

Under the sun. 

A wondering gaze toward the misty hills, 
A moment's lingering near pleasant rills. 
And then the climb ere the night-dew chills 

On the peaks unwon. 
And then the heights and the far, vast view, 
A wistful look back the valley blue, 
A peaceful gaze down the pathway new. 

And a setting sun. 

A silent prayer that for weary feet 

The way be smooth, and that yet we may meet 

A comrade or two whom we did greet 

In the course begun. 
A wandering on 'neath shadow and star, 
A tear, and a snatch from an old, old bar; 
Then the glimmering lights of the homeland far. 

And the course is done. 

48 



THE CALMER LIFE 

'' God helps them that help themselves " ; 
But to the patient soul that waits 
And calmly labors, free from hates, 
He gives a beauty and a life 
That grant a calm past all the strife 
Of him who delves. 

What need of this unceasing cry 
For worldly praise, for worldly pelf? 
Enough to live and know thyself. 
'Twere better that ambition starve 
And pass without a name to carve, 
Than soul should die. 



49 



ETERNAL SONG 

When the poet dies 

His song lives on 
In the tearful eyes 

Till eyes are gone; 
And still it lives 

When the soul has fled. 
And comfort gives 

To the living dead. 



50 



JUST FOR TO-DAY 

The rose that blushed this morning fades ere night; 

Yon bird that sings may ne'er again be near; 
A few brief hours — and darkness follows light; 

The joys of yesterday no longer here; 
The pains of morrow hidden from my sight; 

Thy lesson, O my Father, is so clear: 
" Just for to-day." 

Since, then, my fortune cometh part by part, 
This hour a joy, the next a weary care ; 

Not knowing through what trials my waiting heart 
May have to pass, be this my only prayer: 

" I do not ask to shun Life's pain and smart ; 
But give, O Father, what my strength may bear 
Just for to-day/' 



51 



THE LIGHT 

I read in books of that great Spirit's might 

Who, speaking, caused from chaos earths to roll; 

I heard men tell of how the darkest night 

Is torn by him from ofi the mourning soul; 

All this I saw and heard, but never light 
Upon my darkness stole. 

I stood beside the ocean where afar 

The mountains raised in misty calm their crown; 
I felt the roaring surge beneath me jar; 

While from their heights of peace the peaks looked 
down ; 
All this I saw and heard, and, like a star, 
A light within me shone. 



52 



SOME DAY BEYOND 

Some day beyond — I know not when — 
My soul shall flee the haunts of men, 
Shall close its house and shut the door, 
And leave all bare the walls and floor. 
And silently, in darkest night. 
Shall wander far beyond man's sight — 
Some day beyond. 

Some day beyond it thus shall be, 
And men at morn shall pause and see 
The house all gloomy, dark, and lone. 
Naught there but piteous, silent stone. 
And, peering in, shall start and stare 
And wonder why I went — and where — 
Some day beyond. 

Some day beyond they'll come that way, 
Tip-toeing 'round the old home gray. 
And whisper soft, as though in fright: 
" The old soul went away last night. 
Poor heart, he was a curious man! " 
And thus they'll speak what good they can 
Some day beyond. 



53 



Some day beyond — ah, then too late — 
There'll be soft words and none of hate; 
But, oh, my soul ! that I might hear, 
Ere going forth, these words of cheer. 
Then should I grasp the hands of all, 
And leave — but not in night's dark pall — 
Some day beyond. 



54 



A SPRING-TIME HINT 

The clouds are drifting far above; 

'Tis Spring-time, love! 'Tis Spring-time, level 

Adown the meadow by the brook 

The tender grass begins to look, 

And with its trembling arms to shove. 

'Tis Spring-time, love! 'Tis Spring-time, love! 

The wavering breeze calls from above, 

" 'Tis Spring-time, love! 'Tis Spring-time, love! ' 

Amid the shadow and the glint 

(Pray, love, forgive the Spring-time hint) 

I saw a dove build with a dove. 

'Tis Spring-time, love! 'Tis Spring-time, love! 

uurU 



55 



NOVEMBER 

A gray-brown field and a misty hill, 
A deepening shadow in every rill, 

A calm, and, lo, from all around 
A strange, far sound. 

A gathering-in of the fruit of hand, 
A sighing for rest in the weary land, 
A haze of smoke, and the leaves' 
dry heap 
For things that sleep. 

A psalm to God and a prayer that He 
The guardian of our harvest be, 

That we may midst the winter's roar 
Find joy in store. 



56 



THE WISE PRAYER 

'Tfs said that in the mystic former days, 

When God and men did hold a closer walk, 
Mahomet, strolling in the evening rays 

(All weary of his teachers' learned talk), 
Was pondering deeply o'er the days to come, 
And wondering what to him would be life's sum, 

When suddenly, amidst the falling gloom, 
Behold ! a mighty light and wave of air. 

And, starting back, he saw before him loom 
An angel, great of form and wondrous fair. 

The angel spoke: " Mahomet, since thy way 

Is free from guile, thou hast in Allah's eyes 
Found grace exceeding. This He bids me say: 

' Pray thou the wisest prayer thou canst devise. 
And it shall come to pass! * " Long, long in thought 
Perplexed, Mahomet stood, and long he sought 

For words. At length he raised his eyes above: 
" I do not ask for wealth or lore or jame. 

But show me, Lord, the work I most do love 
And grant to me to do it, void of shame! " 



57 



Mahomet ceased; the angel, wondering, spoke: 

" Thy prayer is granted, youth ; for it is wise. 
Each soul of all this struggling folk 

Hath sure some work that it might prize 
Above all other things. But, ah, how few 
E'er found their task — the very task they knew 

They loved past wealth and fame and earthly 
praise! " 
The angel went, and 'midst the evening murk 

Mahomet walked alone. And all his ways 
Were ways of peace: for he had found his work. 



58 



LOVE LIVETH ON 

Love liveth on. 
Swift fadeth every night and day; 
The earthly kingdoms pass av^ay; 
The might of pride moulds in decay; 

Love liveth on. 
Names mingle with the dust they wrought ; 
The beauty that great Art begot, 
The lore, the sage, all now are not: 

Love liveth on. 

Love liveth on. 
The story told in days of old 
To blushing maids by warriors bold 
Hath lost no charm nor e'er grown cold ; 

Love liveth on. 
Amid the pain and care of earth, 
So much of woe, such lack of mirth, 
See: there is e'er one thing of worth: 

Love liveth on. 



59 



THE CULMINATION 

The stars shine forth by night, 

The sun by day; 
Dim each glimmering light, 

But one great ray. 

So be my deeds, though small. 
That, filled with love. 

Death's morn beholds them all 
A Sun above. 



60 



ON CHRISTMAS MORN 

On Christmas morn long years ago 
A manger, lit with heavenly glow, 
Served for a youthful mother's bed. 
And 'round that lowly couch, 'tis said, 
An angel throng did come and go. 

The mystery of it all, I know. 
Has baffled Learning's pompous show, 
But still the old, old story's read 
On Christmas morn. 

And many a Christmas morning's snow 
Has crowned with white this world of woe; 
But still the angel throng is led 
Where'er lies in a mother's bed 
A gift like that God did bestow 
On Christmas morn. 



6i 



HEART-SONGS 

My soul sings not in this late day 

As once it did in gayer years; 
Less oft along the clouded way 
The heart-song cheers. 

Is it my song? Is it my soul? 

That I no longer go my way 
With singing heart all free from dole 
The live-long day? 

God knows. I only know 'tis so, 

Yet pray that in the last, long way 
Some heart-song still may with me go 
On that dark day. 



62 



TWILIGHT 

In every perfect day there comes, 

Between the sunset and the dark, 
An hour when all the moaning hums 

And mortal strivings, raving, stark. 
Are sunk to rest, and all is calm. 
'Tis then — sweet moment of the day — 

The great deep shadows creep afar 
And from the dim hills steal away 

All ruggedness — all scars that mar; 
And earth seems but a silent psalm. 

In every perfect life there comes 

Between the market and the tomb. 
Ere yet the long, long sleep benumbs. 

An hour when Calmness doth resume 
Her ancient seat beside the soul. 
Then all the hills of memory 

Loom forth in softest shadows deep, 
From rugged wounds and scars so free 

The Past seems but a dreamful sleep, 
The Now a waking at the Goal. 



63 



Z 130 



FINIS VITJE 

Here on the embers of my fire 
I gaze and see the ashes fall 
In silence, one by one, till all 
Have heaped the pyre. 

Here on the embers of my life 
I gaze and see each feeble power 
Fade noiseless with the passing hour 
To rest from strife. 

And, yet, no murmur of complaint; 
For, like the embers of this fire. 
Some gleam of warmth did I inspire 
Ere I grew faint. 

And once more to my mother, Earth, 
Shall I, too, like these embers pass 
To join the universal mass 
Awaiting birth. 



64 



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. RRARY OF CONGRESS 

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